


maybe we're just | not | meant to be

by thepencilnerd



Series: Unsailed Harry Potter ships [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All The Ships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Heavy Angst, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multiple Pairings, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canonical Character Death, Past Lives, Post-Hogwarts, Sad Ending, Slice of Life, Slow Burn Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Soulmates, Terminal Illnesses, Tragedy, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepencilnerd/pseuds/thepencilnerd
Summary: ∞ absolute value [ab·so·lute val·ue] (n.) the magnitude of a quantity, irrespective of sign; the distance of a quantity from zero.This was not the first time Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had met. They had encountered each other throughout many previous lifetimes, yet unbeknownst to either of them, fate was hard at work trying to keep them together as much as destiny was trying to pull them apart. Maybe in another life, another time, another world, another universe...How many chances did people get until they were finally granted the opportunity to be with their soulmates? Would there ever come a time when both could find peace in this never-ending cycle of life and death—or would they be at the mercy of space and time, forever swimming along with the cosmos in search of one another?
Relationships: Endgame Dramione - Relationship, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/George Weasley
Series: Unsailed Harry Potter ships [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100987
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	maybe we're just | not | meant to be

The first time they’d met was at the fall festival. Each year, Hermione Granger’s parents were adamant about being the hosts and holding the gala at the palace. Her dress, tailored by none other than her dearest friend, sparkled bright red against the warm glow of the paper lanterns that decorated the path. The festival was alive underneath a beautiful autumn sky, and the vibrant sound of the town’s laughter and jester music echoed throughout the quiet night. 

As she walked past the booth where children were bobbing for apples, there he was. She saw him first, of course. He wore a plain blue mask and a black cape, undetectable to any non-speculative passerby but she. Even behind his seemingly plain mask, her gaze met him the same moment his eyes locked onto hers. 

Despite having a fully decorated mask with gemstones, gold lace, and the works to cover her entire face, his stare pierced through hers with the strength of a thousand daggers. His face didn’t ring a bell, not in the slightest—but he felt all too familiar. 

She found out later that he was the son of the town’s blacksmith. 

“Draco Malfoy.” His name rolled off of the princess’s tongue like melted candle wax, coating every syllable with another layer of intrigue and curiosity. “Draco. Malfoy. Draco...” She rested the tips of her fingers over her mouth while repeating each word, feeling how every small muscle twinged and produced the lovely sound that was his name.

* * *

His hand traced an invisible swirl across her porcelain smooth skin, following the curve of her shoulder down to forearm and then to her hand. “Hermione,” he spoke softly. The sleeping goddess opened her eyes to see Draco lying parallel to her body, the small distance between them no bigger than an arm’s length. 

“Hermione...” He spoke in an even quieter voice this time, afraid that if he said her name in vain that she would evaporate into thin air and leave him—all alone. It sounded like poetry as it danced across his lips. 

Reaching over to him, Hermione’s fingertips gently brushed over his lower lip as he continued to say her name. Even though he’d visited her chambers hours before, it paled in comparison to the intimate moment they were sharing now. 

He lifted his hand to her face carefully, brushing the soft skin of her cheek before settling on her cupid’s bow. Mirroring each other's actions as they called each other’s names one after another, the two voices slowed to a series of harmonized murmurs as they lulled one other to sleep. 

* * *

“Do you love him?” 

Hidden underneath his anger, the hurt in Draco’s voice began bleeding through his words. Hermine turned around to face him. His face was clear despite the pitch-black darkness of the night, and his eyes glimmered in the moonlight. 

“Do you love him?” he repeated, louder this time as he began walking toward her. The breeze was refreshing as it blew past the trees, rustling the leaves in its wake and causing his scent to surround her. Grabbing Hermione’s hands, he gently cradled them in his; they were always so warm. He brought them close to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them, the wetness of his tears trailing down the back of her hand.

Hermione cupped his face and brought him closer, his hands still wrapped around hers and heartbeat so loud it thumped against her chest. 

“No.” Her mouth felt like it was glued shut, but somehow she finally managed to speak. “No, I don’t love him. I never have and I never will, Draco.” Each word stung more than the last. 

He sniffled, biting his lip as his shoulders began shaking slightly. 

“Draco,” she started while holding back tears. “I love you so much.” 

His knees buckled from beneath him as he kneeled by his lover’s feet, clutching desperately at her cloaked legs as if it were the last thing anchoring him on this earth. She felt the warmth of his tears seep through the material of her dress, breaking off another piece of her already shattered heart. 

Kneeling to comfort him, he couldn’t hold back the wave of tears after what came next. “But I have to marry him...” 

Hermione couldn’t do anything except hold him. Nothing she’d say would make him feel better; nothing would ever help him heal from the scars she gave him; nothing would ever be the same. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry...” Enveloping each other in a hug so tight it seemed to shut out even the cold wind, she felt tears trail down her face. He held her tighter, burying his nose into the crook of her soft neck and memorizing every little part before

“I love you,” he said. “I love you, Hermione. I know he will never be able to make you happy or love you the way that I do, but I love you and I don’t care if you marry him. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you even in death.”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to speak, knowing well enough that she’d burst into a wailing mess of screams and tears, and the last thing either of them needed was to be discovered by the royal guard. Hermione began shaking at the realization that this was it; this was the last she’d ever see him, hold him in, kiss him, touch him, be with him. 

Grasping the sides of his face, her lips pressed against his for the last time. The salt from tears mixed with the taste that was entirely him felt bittersweet. “I will wait for you, Draco,” she promised. “Even if I have to find you across in life, I will find you and we’ll be happy together.” 

Before sharing one last kiss, he took her hand and put it over his chest. The pronounced beating of his heart made her vision watery again. “Promise.” It wasn’t a request or a question—it was a promise. 

Blinking back tears, she brought his free hand over her chest and held it close. “I promise.” 

“Large stack of pancakes, no butter or whipped cream, and a hot coffee!” Gustav shouted, the small bell on the kitchen counter ringing like the telephone. 

Grabbing the piping hot plate, the waitress piled it on her forearms with the rest of the orders and hustled to get them to their tables. 

“Small kid’s meal with a side of fruit salad, an old fashioned with extra bacon, and an egg-white breakfast omelet with no tomatoes,” Hermione recited cheerily, handing out each of the plates to the family sitting at their table. “Enjoy!” 

Thanking her, she whizzed by table after table until her arms were colored a bright red and indented from the weighty plates. It was only lunch and she already felt the anxiety of rush hour at the diner. She was grateful when the giant bell finally rang from the cash register, signaling breaktime. 

“Hey Mione, do you mind pouring this man a fresh cup of joe?” Marcie called over, waving to her from the opposite end of the aisle. With one hand wrapped around the phone wire and the other punching numbers into the cash register, she ran over quickly to help. 

Grabbing a freshly brewed pot from the machine, she poured it into the mug, still warm from being fresh out of the dishwasher. “Any cream or sugar?” she asked the man hunched over the lunch counter with the newspaper in hand. 

“None, thank you,” he replied curtly. “Black is fine.” 

Raising a brow at the voice, she turned around and set the cup down in front of him. The newspaper was fully opened and covered the entirety of his face. Assuming it was just her brain playing tricks on her, Hermione tapped Marcie on the shoulder and pointed to the back door. reminding her that it was her lunch break. Shooing the frizzy-haired girl away, Hermione grinned and wiped her hands before taking off her already-stained apron. 

The quick rustle of paper crumpling was the last sound she heard before dashing out the door. 

“What was her name?” Draco asked Marcie who was still on hold with the real estate brokers. He kept the newspaper half-folded in one hand. 

“Huh?” she replied. “Oh! That’s Hermione. Been working with us for a while. Real nice gal. Sad to see her go.” 

Draco let out a bored ‘hmph’ and drank his coffee. There was something oddly magnetizing about the woman that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “She found a new job?” 

Marcie took a few more notes down with her finger held up at Draco, bidding him wait. He sipped in silence. 

“Yeah, she finally got that job she’d been pining for on the east coast. Where was it... some banking company or stock market businessy title, can’t remember,” she rambled. “Today’s her last day.” 

After a few seconds without a response, Marcie looked up and saw the young man in a daze. “Why? Cat got your tongue?” she joked. 

He shook his head, coming back to his senses. “No, nothing. I just thought I saw her somewhere.” Covering his nosy curiosity with a mutter, Draco ignored his accelerating pulse. 

“Bad timing I guess,” Marcie sighed, sensing the disappointment in his voice. 

Without a second thought, Draco’s fist clenched the grayscale paper as it let out a satisfying crunch. Marcie’s eyes widened at this, making him clear his throat awkwardly. 

"Sorry, finger cramps,” he stuttered. “I should get back to the office.” Gathering his coat, Draco tossed all the spare coins he had into the tip jar and left the diner. For some reason, he didn’t feel like eating lunch there ever again. 

* * *

“Happy Birthday!!” she screamed in unison with all of her friends. 

The lights flickered on, revealing a stone-faced Draco and overexcited, freeze-framed Hermione standing right behind him. After a few moments of awkward silence, the delayed sound of Neville’s popper going off made everyone burst into laughter. 

Ginny facepalmed. “Really, Longbottom?” The twins shook their heads like disappointed children scolding an adult. Fitting, for this scenario. 

Draco was holding back a childish grin. “Thanks, guys.” Even though his reaction was sub-par than what she expected for a surprise party, Granger smiled. 

“Let’s cut the cake!” Luna exclaimed with nothing but glee. 

Turning on the stereo, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Harry, Neville and the twins started dancing like they were at a shoddy central club. Admissions decisions for Ministry internships were coming out next week and they all needed to relax. Luckily, Draco’s birthday was right around the corner and posed as the perfect opportunity to get together. 

Laughing at the and their antics, Draco walked over to Granger with a smug grin. “I told you I suck at reacting.” Popping open a bottle of mini Pumpkin liqueur she’d splurged on just for today, Hermione handed him one before opening one for herself. 

“What can I say,” she shrugged, taking a drawn-out sip before continuing. “If it means we can all spend one more crazy night together, it’s worth it in my book.” 

Draco sighed. “Why do you always talk as if we’re going far away and never seeing each other again? We’re all staying here anyway.” He took another swig before finishing his thoughts. “The Ministry said they’re offering all incoming interns a somewhat decent wage. Plus, paid sick leave.”

She smiled at his seemingly naïve outlook on the situation. “Draco, we all know Ron, Luna, and Dean are already set for trainee spots at the Ministry. Neville might stay here and take up a job as Snape’s assistant. Do pray for that poor soul…” They both chuckled. 

“The twins have started to set up shop at Grimmauld Place, and Ginny and Harry talked about how they wanted to tour Europe together for a gap year.” 

Draco clenched his jaw at the reality that washed over him like cold water. “We’ll be okay. As long as you’re staying here with me, these—” he paused to gesture at the group presently messing around like a pack of wild animals. “—dingbats are the least of my worries.” 

Her ears perked at his choice of words. “I worry you?” she asked, voice going two octaves too high for comfort. His hand stopped mid-air while bringing the bottle to his lips, only then realizing the weight his words carried. 

Clearing his throat firmly, heat rose to her throat and pink dusted her cheeks. It was the alcohol, right? 

“We’ve been best friends for 18 years,” he defended. “Knowing how clumsy preschool Hermione was and how stupid high school Granger can be, of course, I’m worried about you.” 

More color began rushing into Hermione’s face. She chugged more of the alcohol to convince anyone else who’d ask her what was wrong that it was indeed the spirits, not the words of her best friend making her feel—no. They were friends. Best friends. Don’t blow anything out of proportion. 

“Right back at you,” she winked, the alcohol giving the Gryffindor a bit more confidence than usual. Shooting her a gummy smile, they clinked glasses together and felt the buzz flood their senses. 

“Draco!” Fred—at least he thought—called from across the room. He still struggled to spot the difference between the copy-pasted Weasley brothers. “Stay cheese!” Holding up his polaroid, the flash caught Hermione off guard. Draco’s arm came up reflexively to shield her eyes, making her heart flutter even more. 

Ron and the others groaned, chanting in unison for one more picture. 

“Why not a group picture you pompous gits?” Draco scoffed. “It’s my birthday so I get all the birthday wishes granted.” 

One of the twins tsked. “Because you two look cute together and it’s an au natural setting!” Giving in to their relentless pleas, the brave Granger wrapped her arm around Draco’s waist and gave the camera a goofy smile. Taken aback by Granger’s sudden physical contact, Draco’s heartbeat picked up at lighting speed. She could hear it thump through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

The guys howled again. “Draco!” Ginny whined. “Come on! It’s just a quick picture!” Slinging his arm over Hermione’s shoulder, she could’ve sworn he pulled her in closer for the shot. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and sensed his muscles pull into the sly grin she’d memorized by heart. 

Fred snapped a picture as quickly as he could but pouted after shaking the developed photo. “Shoot, my finger was covering part of the lens. One more, I promise!” 

Draco let out a huff. Weasley Number 1 was properly pissed. Looking up at him, Draco lowered his chin and stared back at the curly-haired girl standing beside him. Hermione never noticed how handsome he was until now. His eyes were more angular than she recalled but his lips remained the same from when they were kids. He’d always pout whenever he got in trouble for playing too rough with the others. 

She’ll never forget when he shoved Harry down the slide in 2nd grade and went on time out for the entire duration of lunch. 7-year old Hermione felt bad for her best friend and snuck him the other half of her PB&J when the professor wasn’t looking. This didn’t go unpunished of course, as she soon found herself in the same time-out corner as Draco. Strangely enough, she wasn't angry in the slightest. 

The annoyed expression on his face slowly melted into one even the inquisitive Granger struggled to map. Focused? Shocked? Surprised? Happy? Was there something smudged on her face? The edges of his lips formed into a gentle smile and he parted his lips to say—

“3, 2, 1!” everyone shouted in unison before the loud click of a camera shutter sounded again. 

* * *

“God, I feel like I’m going to puke.” Hermione’s heart felt like it was going to dig itself out of her rib cage and run a marathon. “Why am I so nervous?” Fiddling with her fingers and shaking her hands around vigorously, Ginny grabbed her best friend by the shoulders and looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Hermione Jean Granger,” Her voice was firm but still gentle. “Calm down. Breathe for me. I don’t need you hyperventilating in your dress.” 

Letting out a deep breath she’d trapped inside her lungs for what seemed like hours, the bride closed her eyes and tried to steady the relentless pounding that was her heart rate. 

“You are marrying the love of your life,” Fleur soothed. Ever the angel. “You are just excited.” 

Hermione gulped another welling bubble that crawled up her throat. No matter how many times she tried swallowing, her throat was as dry as the Sahara desert. She couldn’t drink water either because it was her mother’s wonderful idea to get a wedding dress with a traditional corset. Talk about old fashioned, right? 

“Were you this nervous at your wedding? Would you be this nervous?” The questions slipped out instinctively before she could stop them. “Like a pit at the bottom of your stomach that feels like it’s ripping through your guts and weighing you down to the dark depths of hell—” she gasped. “—kind of nervous?” 

Ginny laughed at Hermione’s ever-ornate vernacular that remained intact even when she was stressed out. “I’d be nervous if somewhere deep inside my heart, I knew he wasn’t ‘the one’.” Air-quoting the last part of her sentence, she patted the baby hairs that had been tussled during the mini fit. 

The words sliced through her foggy mind like a hot knife, making her eyes widen and the color drain from her face. 

Seeing her reaction, she was quick to reassure any spiked nerves. “But you love him and he loves you! I promise, Hermione, you’re just excited. I was nervous on my wedding day! Can you imagine getting married to Harry bloody Potter?” She overemphasized her words and clasped her chest to try and be more convincing. “You’re getting married for God’s sake! It’s normal to be nervous!” 

She needed to sit down. “Yeah...” A dry laugh escaped her lips. “I’m getting married.” 

Three knocks sounded from the door. Turning around, Hermione saw a familiar group of heads poke through the open crack. “Well, well, well,” the youngest smirked. “Look who it is.” 

The corners of her lips curled into the biggest smile she’d worn all day. “You guys!” Getting up, the immaculately dressed bride ran over to Harry, Ron, George, Luna, and Draco as fast as she could with the heels attached to her feet. They brought her in for a group hug, being careful not to snag the veil or step on the dress. 

Ginny left the room as discreetly as she could, mentioning something about a cake or the balloons needing some double-checking. 

“You look absolutely marvelous, Hermione,” Luna complimented, a genuine smile lighting up her eyes. 

George had his hand clasped over his mouth, purposely overreacting to make her laugh and calm her nerves. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Jean Granger?” 

Shaking their heads at the eldest and his incessant rapport for comedy, Draco refrained from elbowing the red-headed bloke’s side.

“You do look really amazing, Hermione.” Ron also smiled, keeping his hands behind his back to not cause any accidents. Knowing him, it was a miracle Harry didn’t bring cable ties with him as a backup for the former’s clumsiness. 

“Is it too late to ask you to marry me? I’m sure Gin won’t mind,” Harry chirped. Winking at his best friend, she scoffed and shook her head, containing laughter as his wife jostled his shoulder playfully. 

Draco remained still, his eyes still scanning over her attire. Noticing how silent he was, the four cleared their throats all at once, snapping him out of his trance. Looking up and around at his friends, his eyes honed in on Granger. 

“Yeah,” he agreed blindly. “You look—great. Stunning.” 

They all sensed the tension in the room. “I think we should go check up on Neville to see if he needs any help,” Luna spoke first. 

Ginny agreed. “God knows if he knows how to work a stage mic at his first job as a host, right?” 

The others chuckled and told the blessed bride they’d see her at the reception. Giving them one more hug and bidding them goodbye, it was just Hermione and Draco left in the room. Taking a seat on the couch, she ushered him over to sit.

Rather than occupy the empty space beside his closest friend, Draco opted to sit in the empty chair across from her. She couldn’t help but feel hurt by his pseudo-passive-aggressive decision. He seemed more quiet than usual. No. He was definitely more quiet than usual. 

“So,” he finally spoke after what seemed like a million years of silence. “Marriage.” 

Biting her lip, she picked at her nails again. Ginny would murder her if she saw how much Hermione had ruined her manicure in the span of a few hours. 

“Yeah. I’m getting married.” The words rolled off of her tongue like a foreign language, strenuous and heavy on the mind. “Your wedding is next week though, so don’t count me out,” Granger tried to laugh, but only succeeded in making herself feel worse for whatever reason. 

A hint of a smile grazed Draco’s lips. His eyes flickered back and forth between his engagement ring and hers. “Are you excited?” 

“Yes,” Hermione answered robotically. The more she talked, the more each sentence out of her mouth felt like tar; acidic and painful, scorching the inside of her mouth raw. “Aren’t you?” she asked, referring to his engagement. 

Draco nodded slowly, pressing his lips together and raking his teeth across his lower lip. “Of course I am,” he blurted out in a hasty tone. “Really, really excited. I can’t wait.” 

Silence filled the room again. The once brave and fearless girl wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come out. Why did this feel so horrible? Like she’d just stabbed her own best friend in the back with a painfully dull knife? 

“I’m really happy for you, Hermione,” he declared. “I'm really happy that you’re happy.” His eyes fluttered softly and his throat bobbed. 

Another pang reverberated in her chest. “I’m really happy for you too, Draco.” No matter how hard she tried to sound confident, her voice was on the verge of tears. He leaned over the space between them, placed his hands over her clasped ones, and kept his eyes down. 

“Please stay happy,” he pleaded, unable to meet her gaze for fear of letting revealing see how damp his eyes were. “Please be happy. Live a long, healthy, happy life. For me.” 

Choking back her own tears, Hermione nodded. 

Finally, the girl managed to find the strength in her voice to speak. One last wish before saying goodbye to her youth. 

“Please don’t forget about me.” 

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the groom!” Neville announced grandly, gesturing toward the French doors at the back of the hall. Who knew Longbottom had so many hidden talents?

Opening the doors, Hermione Granger’s fiancé stepped out with a humble bow and waved at everyone; with his father’s wedding tux on, meticulously brushed up hair, and a single red rose pinned by his pocket square, he looked as handsome as ever. 

After the clapping settled down, Neville continued. “And now, I would like you all to give a warm welcome to the beautiful bride!” The applause was louder than before and made her stomach feel like a thousand tons. 

“Don’t let me fall?” Opening her eyes to look at her father, Mr. Granger held his daughter’s hand tightly and spoke with nothing but sincerity in his voice. 

“Never.” On cue, they began walking down the aisle. It was just like the movies, except it was about a million times more terrifying since she was the one actually walking down the obscenely narrow path. Locking eyes with her beloved, his lips were parted in awe from the moment she’d stepped onto the walkway. 

The soft music that echoed from the speakers flooded the chapel and added an extra blanket of comfort. Reality kicked in and Hermione was overcome with the feeling of sheer terror, excitement, happiness, anxiety, joy, and every emotion in between. 

She was getting married. 

Staring straight ahead so as to not fall, the veiled woman clutched onto her father’s arm as tight as she could. Once reaching the altar, Mr. Granger kissed his daughter’s cheek and made his way back to the tables. 

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this beautiful bride and groom as they proclaim their love and commitment to the world....” His voice suddenly blurred into muddled bubbles of distorted bass. It wasn’t until Hermione’s gaze wandered and found Draco—he was already staring at her. 

Pain flooded her chest again like the burning hot steel rod that was used to poke charcoal pits. Pain like that time she went to Splash City for a 7th-grade field trip and fell down the water slide. She wasn't able to stand up straight, so the gang worked together to carry her back to where Miss Isles and the TA’s were sunbathing. Draco was crying more than she was. A dull ache blossomed in her ribcage and spread to the tips of her fingers like ink droplets in water. 

Pain. 

The warm sensation of hands clasping hers brought her back to the present moment. “And now—” The bellowing voice returned. “Fred Weasley, do you take Hermione Jean Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

Without a second of hesitation, Fred squeezed his love’s hands gently and his eyes gleamed brighter than the sunset skyline. “I do.” 

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?” the officiant continued. 

“I do,” he repeated confidently. 

Turning to the bride, the vows continued. “And Hermione, do you take Fred Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

No longer looking at Draco, her heart was flooded with the love she shared with Fred just long enough to say, “I do.” 

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?” 

Her eyes drifted to Draco for just a moment before gazing at Fred and letting the words leave her lips. 

“I do.” 

The officiant smiled, blind to anything but the bride and groom. “May the ring bearer—which to my knowledge, is the best man—bring forth the rings?” 

Stepping towards the altar, Draco handed the velvet box to the officiant and didn’t dare to meet Hermione’s line of vision. 

“Hermione and Fred will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment to each other,” he said for what was probably the billionth time in his entire career. 

The rest of the vows passed by like a smudged blur. All she remembers is hearing, “You may now kiss the bride” and Fred’s soft lips pressing against hers. When they pulled away, everyone was whistling, clapping, and cheering, overjoyed at the new union that was Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger, husband, and wife. 

Everyone except Draco. 

He was frozen. 

All he could do was put on a big smile for his best friend, happily married to the man she loved. The love of her life. Someone he would never in his wildest dreams imagine being. 

All he could do was hide his truth—

—so that’s exactly what she did, too.

* * *

The reception was bustling with crowds of people dancing. Seeing as she didn’t recognize a handful of faces, Hermione was pretty sure more than half of them were all co-workers Fred had invited. 

“Okay, okay!” Neville’s voice sounded through the speakers, cracking the slightest bit from his energy. “It’s time for everyone to give their toasts to the wonderfully wed bride and groom!” 

Hermione tried her very best not to roll her eyes, instead opting to go for a head shake and nervous lip bite. George ran to the mic first, butting Neville out of the way as he’d always done since elementary school. 

“Hermione, Fred” He exhaled as he began speaking. “If there’s any couple who’s been more in love with each other since the day they met, I’d pay a million to see their faces when they see you two.” Keeping it short and sweet, a few whistles sounded from the back, causing her to blush. 

Harry was next. “We all met Miss Hermione Jean Granger in kindergarten and have been best friends ever since,” he explained with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “When she’d go to the bathroom or back to the cafeteria to get an extra cookie, we all talked about who’d get to marry her during lunch. To keep it short and sweet, Fred always had it bad for Hermione, and dreams indeed come true!” 

Covering her face to hide the redness of her cheeks, the blushing bride looked over to see that Fred was doing the same, except he was peeking through his fingers to look at his wife lovingly. The sound of the guests’ laughter and cheers made her heart ring in her ears. Fred reached over to grab his lover’s hand; the feeling of his large hand encasing her small ones made a wave of relief wash over her nerves. 

Ron waltzed on right after. “Going off of that, I remember how Draco would always glare at us and tell us to ‘shut up’ or that Hermione never wanted to get married and live with her cat forever.’” Everyone chuckled. “Hermione, Fred, congratulations on the beautiful life you’ll share!” 

Watching everyone raise their glass into the air, Hermione hesitated before grabbing hers and downing a mouthful.

Neville went after Ron, who insisted that he was supposed to go first as the main host. As a result, he made it his best interest to publicly humiliate the redhead on the stand and earn a round of laughter from all of the guests. 

Hermione looked back to Draco. Some part of her secretly hoped that he waited for his turn as a “save the best for last” type of speech. He was clenching a piece of paper tight in his fist, hell-bent on making it into nothing but a wrinkled ball of smudged ink and flecks of fiber. 

Right on cue, he stood up and jogged up to the stage. Neville handed him the mic with a confused expression but played it off as best he could with his signature wide-toothed grin. 

Draco turned away from the mic to clear his throat away. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to find his voice despite the deathly quiet auditorium. 

“Hermione,” he said. “I remember the first day I met you like it was yesterday. We were in kindergarten and you were the new kid who got transferred to our classroom.” He wasn’t reading off of the paper he had out earlier. 

This wasn’t his plan. 

“You wouldn’t stop crying, saying how you didn’t know anyone in the class and all of your friends were gone,” Draco said as he chuckled to himself, remembering the memory crystal clear. “I told you to stop whining because it was getting annoying, and you started crying even more.”

She remembers that day. Fred remembers that day. As did Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, and Nevill. Some of the group members were all in different grades, but the same school and shared the same classroom. 

“I remember feeling so bad for making you cry, I gave you the last piece of taffy I had stuffed in my cubby. I saved up twenty gold stars for that.” Another soft wave of everyone’s laughter crashed against her ears. “Then in middle school, we all went to the water park for a stupid field trip. You fell down the slide and hit your head so hard, you were barely conscious. 

“I carried you halfway across the park on my back. The guys were all screaming from behind me to put my flip flops on so I wouldn’t get any cuts on my feet.” 

She never knew that. The week after the accident, Draco was in a cast for a month and refused to tell Granger why. The boys wouldn’t spill either, defending that they made a promise to Draco that they’d never break. 

“When you agreed that going to prom would be a nightmare straight out of a 90′s rom-com,” he paused to bite back his lopsided smile. “I asked you to come with me since it would be our last cheesy high school memory with the group. 

“For your birthday, we went to the botanical gardens. You went on for hours about how much you loved the roses there.” How could you forget? Draco pulled up to your house at 6 in the morning and told you to be out in 10. You were sleeping peacefully for the entire 5-hour drive—until he woke you up by plugging your nose and nearly suffocating you on your birthday. 

Despite the growing ache in his throat, he pressed on. “I still have those pictures of you getting stung by that bee. I told you not to get too close to the flowers, but you never listened to me.” 

More laughter. Not a single ounce of it came from Hermione. 

Draco’s voice grew quiet. “I remember talking to you right before midnight. You seemed stressed out about something...” His focus was entirely on her now. “Harry’s New Year’s Eve party.” 

Oh. How could she forget...

“Fred could not have timed his proposal more perfectly with the last clock strike.” 

There it was. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Draco stuttered, collecting his thoughts. “Is that I really—I’m really happy for you, Hermione. And you too, Fred.” He added the last part in with a gummy grin that she could spot as painted on from a mile away. 

“I wish you a long, healthy, happy, and exciting life together. Don’t forget about the rest of us, okay? I love you, too.” He barely skipped the pause between the last two words to sound like “you two,” but his message rang loud and clear. 

He loves her. 

Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger. 

__________________________________________

The faded edges of the polaroid felt dull against her fingertips. She’d spent the past hour sitting in front of the fireplace with the old pictures of her and Draco. She only had three; all of them were from his birthday party, senior year. 

The first one was blurry, but the memory was ingrained in her memory as clear as day. Draco’s arm shielding her from the bright flash of Fred’s camera in his sneak attack of a photoshoot. Hermione hadn’t noticed until now how closely she was pressed against Draco’s side. 

The second was better. Taking note of how the camera was slightly zoomed in and focused on her, a melancholic smile flashed across her face. 

"My finger was covering the lens” my ass, she recalled. Fred truly did have feelings for Mione, even back then. 

Her arm was wrapped around Draco’s side while his was slung over her shoulder, both of them smiling like teenage idiots at the camera, thinking about god knows what. 

Finally, she studied the third one for the longest. It was the one where they were looking at each other, frozen like marble sculptures and unbound by the limits of time. His lips were parted just as she remembered them, torturing her ever still. She wanted nothing more than for this picture to come to life and speak those words to her, whatever they may be. 

But she knew that it was just an old, fingerprint stained picture that would remain silent and lifeless forever. 

“Coming to bed, love?” Fred’s deep voice called from behind her. Judging by how scratchy and groggy his voice was, he was definitely on the verge of falling asleep standing up. “It’s getting late and we have lots of exploring to do tomorrow.” Even though he was exhausted, he couldn’t hide the excitement laced in his voice. 

After she got engaged, they immediately settled on Crema, Italy for the honeymoon destination. From the hundreds of years of history, breathtaking scenery, rich culture, and not to mention the food, the past few days here had been pure heaven. 

“Coming,” she assured warmly. Sitting on the photos to keep them hidden, Hermione told him she’d be there after putting out the fireplace. He pouted and said that the bed was cold without her and to hurry up. 

His childish antics never failed to make her heart race. After he was back in the bedroom, she spent another minute looking at the pictures. 

With shaky hands and tears welling in her eyes, she threw them into the burning red embers of the fireplace one by one, watching them melt; the white plastic borders of the film curled inward and turned black, crumbling into nothing but a stringy mess of fumes; the ink that marked the date of that night disintegrated into the air as puffs of smoke, marking the end of something would never be. 

She nestled herself into Fred’s chest and deafened herself with the sound of his steady heartbeat. If she hadn’t, Hermione could’ve sworn she heard a piece of her heart shatter that night.

* * *

Draco was lying comfortably on his couch. The T.V. was on but he didn’t hear any of it. The clock read 12:41 a.m. and as per usual, he wasn’t tired in the slightest. He didn’t feel like sleeping. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. 

“Draco?” a sleepy voice sounded from the bedroom. “Are you coming to bed?” 

Lifting his head to the bedroom door, he saw his wife sticking her head out of the door crack ever so slightly. She must’ve woken up. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized humbly. “Had to finish some extra paperwork. Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” Getting up to quickly kiss her forehead, Draco promised her that he’d be there soon. 

She gave him a half-asleep grin and nestled herself back into the covers. Draco turned off all the apartment lights and the T.V., leaving him in utter silence and darkness. The only reason he kept them running constantly was to block out the thoughts he had of Mione during the day. 

Opening the coffee table drawer in front of the couch, he took out the wedding album from last month. When he opened it, he was surprised to find the three pictures of them from his senior year birthday party scattered on the first page. She always loved throwing surprise parties despite knowing that he would never react the way she wanted him to. It was sweet. 

Looking at the polaroids, Draco was absorbed into the memory of that night, eyes burning from not blinking for too long. The first picture was a blurry mess, but the second and third weren’t half bad. 

He remembers her smile; it was his favorite. Her nose crinkled and her eyes would turn into half moons like a cartoon character. Her immaculate teeth glinted like rare pearls from the deepest depths of the ocean, but those dimples were only noticeable from up close. Hermione Granger’s smile was absolutely contagious and that itself was an understatement. 

The third frame was his least favorite. It was a moment captured in time that he would never forgive himself for; the biggest regret in his life—his living nightmare. 

That was the night he was going to ask his best friend to be his girlfriend. 

It was the night everything was supposed to be perfect. 

But it wasn’t. 

Two weeks later, Fred came back from a business trip and had a party of his own to celebrate. 

He asked her out.

She said yes. 

He swept her off of her feet and kissed her square on the lips like in the movies, twirling her around to the point where she couldn’t stop laughing. She looked so untouchable in her happiness. Draco didn’t have the guts to throw away the photos. 

The two hadn’t talked since his wedding. It had only been a month, but it felt like an eternity spent in hell. He missed her voice; the sound of her laughter; that face she made while scolding him and tried to be serious but ended up breaking into snorts. He missed Hermione. 

Flipping over to the next page, he found the letter from her wedding night. It was still badly crumpled from when he had let his anger seep through and needed something to clench. Everyone who saw it probably thought it was his toast to the bride and groom, but no. It was his confession letter he’d saved from the night she’d gotten engaged at that stupid New Year party. 

> Dear Hermione,
> 
> If everything goes to plan, you’ll never have to read this. On the other hand and the even greater chance that things don’t go to plan, you still won’t be able to read this. I love you, Mione. I can picture your face reading this. Close your mouth or a bug might fly in again. Don’t think I forgot when we visited the zoo for our bio class. I still have the video saved on my phone. I’m probably too late, right? I don’t care. In fact, I couldn’t care less. I love you more than I love myself or anything else in this world, and I don’t care if you feel the same. I just want you to be happy. I need you to be. 
> 
> I’ve felt connected to you since the first day we met and I’ve loved you more and more every day after that. No matter how hard I tell myself that you will never feel the same about me, or even think and care about me half as much as I care about you, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you more than you care about me, and that’s okay. 
> 
> You make me so incredibly happy, I can’t put into words how deeply I feel for you. You also drive me insane and make me the angriest, most frustrated, neurotic, and saddest person to exist in this entire universe, but I don’t care because it’s all thanks to you.
> 
> I will love you until the day I die and I promise you this with my life. 
> 
> Please choose me. Love me. Be with me. I know it’s pathetic and hopeless and so incredibly fucking selfish, but I love you and I can’t live without you, Hermione. Choose me. Be with me. Stay with me. Marry me. 
> 
> Always and forever yours, 
> 
> —Draco.

And with that, he slammed the album shut and buried his face into his hands, sheer agony, anger, pain, regret, and awe flooding every cell in his body. He started laughing. Not at himself or Hermione, not even at anything in particular. 

_I guess I’m just laughing at how ridiculous this whole universe is. Fate and all. H_ e tried reasoning with himself but was far from remotely sane. It felt like some big practical joke on a hidden camera show, like this wasn’t his real life, his reality. He begged for it to be a bad dream that he would wake up from any second now. He wanted it to be a nightmare. 

* * *

But he never woke up. 

If they had met in another time, another life, another world—how happy could they have been? In love? Together? 

The steady beeping of the hospital monitor had become Hermione Granger’s new normal. Today was different though. She sensed it in her bones. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

“Draco, you can’t die on me. I don’t want to be alone.” 

He smiled faintly, trying to reach out and soothe her streaming tears. His skin was bleached white and his usually pink lips were tinted a sickly grey. He was dying and no one could do a single thing about it. 

“You won’t be alone. You have all of your family and—” He was cut short by your sudden outburst. 

“I don’t want my family, I want you!” she sobbed, burying her face into his hospital gown. He held back tears of his own as he felt the fabric dampen on his stomach. “You’re only 27, Draco, you—you don’t—”

Pressing the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, she wouldn’t have been able to get any more words out even if she forced herself to. A stabbing pain spread in her lungs from the lack of oxygen but she didn’t care. Her boyfriend, the love of her life, was on his deathbed and Hermione would gladly take all the misery in the world, all the needles and knives, stitches, and surgeries, broken bones, bruises, and blood—every single piece of it if it meant that he would live. 

“You don’t deserve to die, Draco...” she hiccuped. 

He cradled her head against his neck, his upright posture allowing her tears to flow down his collarbone. The last few months had been hell, but she refused to leave his side. 

Every time he’d wake up in insufferable agony in the middle of the night, she was there with anything he needed: water, a bucket, damp towel, food, his medications, a nurse—anything and everything he needed, she was always there for him. 

The last few months they had left were spent constantly by each other’s side. It all felt like some sick joke. Six years ago, Mione had met the love of her life at a random cafe in London and hit it off like sparks from a firework. She found out he was an architect major and finishing up his senior year just like her. He asked the bright-eyed woman out four months after they kept running into each other at the coffee shop, and moved in together five months after that. 

Their relationship was absolutely perfect. Never in her entire life had she’d met a man, let alone a human being, who was as selfless, kind, gentle, loving, and honest as Draco. There was a connection between the two that neither of them could describe or frame into rational thoughts; the two souls loved each other unconditionally. 

It all came crashing down when he collapsed last year. It didn’t seem like anything major. He told her it was because of his anemia, but after insisting on making a visit to the hospital, the doctors broke the news to Hermione. 

After months of seeing him doubled over in pain and puking his guts out from all the medication and relentless testing, he told her right before their 5th anniversary: he didn’t want to suffer anymore. 

It took months of convincing her that he was okay with dying to even be able to look into his eyes. Hermione couldn’t hate the man she loved for choosing to die peacefully rather than be greedy to live, but she had a hard time showing her full support and being okay with it. Truth be told, she didn’t think she’d ever truly be okay with it. 

“I’ve lived a happy life, Hermione.” Recalling the memory as if it were yesterday, his voice was much stronger back then. “I have done everything I’ve ever wanted to do, seen everything, explored everywhere, and after meeting you, I know I can die without any regrets. My only regret is not walking you down that aisle when I had the chance.” 

Pressing a kiss to his chapped lips, she couldn’t stop the ache that plagued her heart at the memory. It wasn’t over until it was over, so why did it still hurt so bad? 

“Hermione?” Draco whispered. “You awake?” He struggled to his head to face his partner, every little muscle in his body aching like a collective bruise. 

She shifted her weight over to Draco’s side of the bed and propped herself up by the elbow, studying his face one more time. “Do you need anything?” Talking for the first time after hours of crying stung, like rubbing alcohol was being poured down her already sore throat. 

He shook his head with a half-lidded gaze and lifeless smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’d be nice if you could cuddle me to sleep.” She bit her lip to hold back the waterworks but let the faintest hint of smile shine through. He was still the same Draco she’d run into at that random coffee shop on a rainy London day. 

Opening his arms, he brought her safely into his chest, arms wrapped around as tightly as he could with the little bit of strength he had left. 

“Hermione Jean Granger,” he sighed, drained from all the energy he’d put into making these past few days worth it. “I love you.” He murmured the words against her curly hair like a prayer, breath tickling ever so softly like the ripples of a cherry blossom petal falling onto the surface of a pond. 

She looked up and saw that his eyes were fully open, but started to flutter shut again. He was using every bit of energy to keep them open and memorize her features. Kissing him tenderly, her lips trembled against his. She didn’t want his last memory of her to be one where she was bawling her eyes out. Instead, she smiled as best she could and swiped her finger across his cheek, leaning into his touch. 

“I love you too, Draco. I love you more than anything in this entire universe we call home.” His eyelids drooped shut at the soothing lullaby, falling deeper and deeper into the comforting darkness of sleep. The weak beating of his heart grew quieter with each passing second. 

“You can go to sleep, Draco,” she soothed while running her fingers through his thin hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” he mumbled through her disheveled tresses with the last drop of strength he had left in his body. His breathing grew shallow and hushed. His hands that were always warm and kept her cozy during the frigid nights at their brick apartment were now stone cold. 

Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat as she felt his chest rise and fall for the last time. 

_“I promise.”_

* * *

Taking in a deep breath, the cold air burned her nostrils and filled her lungs with the crisp scent of snow. “Why do you believe in soulmates?” she asked. Handing him the sandwich bag, he shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just seems like something that makes sense.” Tearing open the plastic pouch, he took a bite and immediately sputtered. "How do you mess up a PB&J?” 

Short-tempered and annoyed from the cold, Hermione smacked his shoulder lightly and scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that I happen to make the best sandwiches in the world, Malfoy!” 

“Mhm,” he nodded with sarcasm and a smirk. He was still eating his sandwich and seemed to be enjoying it.

Pressing her numb lips together in a thin line, they ate in silence together. It was a snow day in Manhattan and Central Park looked stunning from the dorms. It was her idea to go out for a picnic, and since it was winter break, who better to ask than her closest and dearest friend, Draco Malfoy?

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for a picnic in a winter wonderland.” His voice seemed grumpy, but it was probably because he hadn’t had any coffee yet. Point made, she rustled through her backpack and pulled out a thermos full of piping hot instant liquid gold. 

With a mouthful of bread, he reached out to grab the metal thermos but she pulled it back and wagged her finger at him. “What do you say?” 

“Give me my coffee,” he droned. Widening her glittering eyes at him in disapproval, he huffed. “Please?” 

She stuck out her tongue and poured him a cup. “I’d be more than happy to!” 

If he rolled his eyes any harder, they would’ve fallen out of his head.

Taking a small sip, the hot steam curled in contrast with the freezing cold air. 

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” He retraced his steps back to the former topic of conversation. Turning towards him, Mione followed his eye-line to the small pond down the hill. A frosty sigh parted her lips. 

“If everyone had a soulmate, we wouldn’t have heartbreaks.” Her sentence caught him off guard. 

“Don’t you think your soulmate is out there somewhere?” he badgered. 

She shook her head and finished the last bite of the mediocre sandwich. “If he is, he should have popped up three breakups ago.” 

Draco couldn’t think of a witty comeback. 

“Do you think your girlfriend is your soulmate?” Granger asked this time, altering the question to fit his current relationship status. 

“No.” The response was instant and dry, much like the coffee granules she had poured this morning. “I don’t think she is. Do you think George is yours?”

Hermione admired the trail her breath left as it steamed up into a small cloud. “Not a chance.” 

The only sound that came after was the brushing of tree branches muted thud of leaves as they fell onto the snow. If she listened hard enough, she could hear the frozen pond crackle in the distance, melting away as the seasons began shifting for reasons beyond mortal comprehension. 

* * *

Staring out his window, he pressed his cheek onto the cold glass and closed his eyes. The icy pane felt satisfying in contrast to his burning hot face. This time of year was Draco’s least favorite. Winter—the season where everything died and left nothing but freezing cold, thick, white blankets of snow. 

The season she left him. 

He grimaced as the memory resurfaced, fists clenching so hard his nails dug crescents into his palms. He wanted to scream but couldn’t find the courage to. 

“If you want to leave, then just leave!” he yelled. Gathering the clothes littered beside the bed, he threw them across the room and landed by her feet soundlessly. 

Hermione’s expression remained stone cold, gaze burning holes that glowed brighter than the sun on the angriest summer day. “Draco—” He was quick to cut her off. 

“No,” Holding his hand up, he was fuming. “If you want to leave, then leave. I don’t want you here. Just go.” 

She opened her mouth to speak but it was no use. He wouldn’t listen. He never did. 

“If you’re so happy with Thomas, why don’t you just marry him?” Draco spits out with pure venom and malice dripping from his voice. He started laughing, delirious from what he was processing. “You know what? Fuck you, Granger.”

Pausing to instigate a reaction from her, the trembling Hermione Granger stayed mute with arms crossed over her bare chest. He was still sitting in the bed and she hadn’t moved away from the door during the past five minutes he’d been venting. 

“Draco,” she sighed, completely drained from the hours you had spent arguing with him. He couldn’t even look at her when she spoke. “We’re not dating. This wasn’t supposed to happen between us. You knew that Draco—”

He started laughing even harder, hands covering his face in a manic daze. “And you expect me to believe that he was only texting you?” 

That’s all it was. Dean asked her earlier today and asked if she wanted to go out for coffee sometime. She made the glorious decision to stay the night at Draco’s place and keep her phone unlocked right by the nightstand. It wasn’t long before he discovered the series of texts shared between his fling and Dean that dated back two months ago. 

Hermione had been sleeping with Draco for a little over a year now, but neither had ever made it official. They blamed it on their stubbornness but deep down, the truth was adamant in both their hearts. 

Apparently, it still warranted this kind of a reaction from him. 

“We never said we were dating, Draco.” Reminding him of all the times he told her that he didn’t date and how he wanted to stay as fuck buddies, darkness erupted from his eyes. “It’s been—”

“You think blaming a stupid label is what this is about?” He stood up and walked towards Hermione, his smirk and upturned eyebrows making her blood boil. 

“I found someone who actually cares about me, Draco.” She stood up straighter. "Dean doesn’t just use me for personal gain and wants to know more about me, not just for a quick shag or whatever the fuck we’re doing.” 

“Who said I didn’t want to get to know you?” he shot back. “Did I say I didn't want to take you out on a date? When the fuck did I ever—”

“You did, Draco! You!” Raking her hands through her tangled hair, anger didn’t even begin to describe the seething hatred that filled her veins. “You told me that this was just going to be a fuckbuddy thing. You said that you would never date because relationships were high school shit shows waiting to happen. You warned me not to fall in love with you well guess what the hell happened genius?” 

Each pronounced word she swore at him was followed by a shove to his chest. Just as he was about to bite back, Granger was running on autopilot. She couldn’t take it anymore. Clutching her throat, she thought she was drowning, water flooding her lungs and rising up her throat until she was moments from being taken under. 

“Do you know how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep over you?”

An odd look flashed across his face that she couldn’t piece together.

“The hours I wasted, wondering, begging, praying, and wishing that you would like me back...” Tears welled at the back of her eyes. “You never gave me a sign. You never said anything and you didn’t do anything, Draco, fuck—fucking hell. You never—” Taking a moment to breathe, her hand came up to shield him from her sight, refusing to let him see her cry. 

“You never cared about me, Draco.”

His expression morphed even more. “I never cared?” It was a purely rhetorical question. “I never cared? I never cared? Really?” Hermione hung her head in defeat and picked her clothes from the floor. She didn’t need this. Not now, not ever, not anymore. 

Another dry scoff came from his throat as she started dressing. “Okay, Granger. I never cared. I worked my ass overtime and saved up enough money to buy you that necklace because I never cared. I drove for six hours all the way to see your performance and take you home because I didn’t care. I stayed up all night writing you that birthday card because I didn’t care. I’ve been sleeping with you for the past 18 months, letting you sleepover, making us breakfast, and spending quality time with you because I never, not once, ever fucking cared.” 

Hermione froze. Why was he telling her this now? 

“It’s too late, Draco.” No, it wasn’t. It was never too late. “You should’ve told me this when you had the chance.” 

“What fucking difference does it make that I’m telling you this now?!” he erupted. “Let’s just fucking—” He tugged at his hair, finally feeling the exact flurry of conflicting emotions she felt. “God, Hermione, let’s just calm down and talk it out, okay?” 

She grabbed her phone from the floor. The screen was shattered from when she threw it at the wall earlier. It almost made her chuckle. Her temper got the best of her and she ended up chucking it at the wall when Draco kept probing for more answers. 

_Why did Thomas text you, when was this, why didn’t you tell me, what were you going to say, were you ever going to—_

“We’re done, Draco.” Hermione’s decision rang firm and cold. As she turned the doorknob, he grabbed her by the arm and held her still, fingers digging into her skin like shingles. 

“If you leave, we’re through, Granger.” He deadpanned like she hadn’t just said that. “I mean it, Granger. Don’t go.” Never had her own name sounded more agonizing to hear and it felt like bile was bubbling up her throat. 

She refused to turn away from him when the words followed, feet firmly anchored in the ground and staring through him like glass. “Goodbye, Draco.” 

Snatching her arm out of his grip, he scoffed through his nose. His jaw was slack and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, biting his lip to the point where he nearly broke the skin. This was it. 

“I hate you.” Hermione could barely make out what he said because she’d slammed the door on the way out. His knees buckled and he fell to the hardwood floor with a thud. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” he kept repeating to himself long after you were gone. Maybe if he said it enough times it would turn into the truth. “I hate you. I hate you.” 

Draco cupped his hands over his ears and began rocking back and forth, continuing his mantra and willing them with all his might to become reality. 

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I love you,” he finally said. “I love you.” 

_I love you._

_I love you._

* * *

“BP’s dropping, set up a drip!” The resident on-call was quick to gather all the nurses and they had to work fast. 

“Book an OR! We have to operate now!” he shouted at anyone who was listening, pushing the gurney down the hall and making people move out of the way like oil in water. 

Each doorway burst open as the doctors and nurses rolled Hermione down each sector of the hospital, juggling around medical jargon and ordering everyone standing idle in the aisle to “Get out of the way!” 

The nurses shoving the IV needles into her arms was barely a tickle compared to the other things she was focused on. Her body hurt. It felt like everything was being crushed but none of the pain was registering in her brain because of how much it was. Her eyelids weighed a ton and it stung to even open them. It hurt to breathe. Every time she inhaled, it seemed like a knife was digging itself deeper into the side of her chest, ripping through flesh and piercing each individual bone. 

“Please do something!” someone shouted, probably at the nurses. As if that would do anything...

The sound of footsteps clapped like thunder against the floor tiles, running towards the wheeled gurney as fast as they could. “You have to save her!” 

A nurse that was about two feet shorter than him, managed to hold him back with an iron grip. “I’m sorry sir, staff only. We promise we’ll do the best we can.”

This felt familiar. Nostalgic, even. Dare she admit, comforting? 

“Where the hell is Draco?” Fred asked Dean, face flushed bright red and dripping with sweat from carrying Granger on his back. He swore he would never use the line, “We’re lucky we live right next to the school’s teaching hospital” as a joke ever again. 

The brunette paced back and forth while on his phone, calling everyone and telling them to get to the hospital as soon as they could. “I don’t know, he’s not answering.” 

_“I’m sorry, your call could not be completed—”_

“Shit!” Dean swore and kicked one of the plastic chairs, earning a few nasty glares from the nurses and patients. 

“Dean!” Turning around, the two saw Harry, Ron, George, and Ginny running towards them. 

“What the hell happened?” Ron asked. “Is she okay?” 

Dean had to lean against the wall for support. His head was spinning. He couldn’t find it in himself to say anything.

“They rolled her into an operating room a few minutes ago,” Fred answered, voice shaking like a child’s. “We don’t know yet.” 

“Her parents on their way here right now,” Ginny signed in exasperation.

Ron asked what was on everyone’s mind. “Where’s Draco?”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Dean filled in with a bitter voice, now oddly calm. “One of you guys should call him. Maybe he’ll answer if someone he doesn’t despise calls him.” 

All of a sudden, Hermione’s parents burst through the double doors, running over to where the five were lined up along the wall. “Dean!” 

Holding onto each other for dear life, they couldn’t mask the terror in their eyes. “Have they helped her yet? What’s wrong?” 

“We don’t know,” Ginny tried consoling. “They haven’t told us anything yet.” 

It was unclear whether she was talking about the doctors or Fred and Dean, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger didn’t bother asking what she meant. 

Harry asked Fred what Dean refused to tell him. “Did you call Draco?” 

Fred shook his head. “It went straight to voicemail...” Behind him, Ginny and Ron were taking turns calling Draco, probably blowing up his phone with hundreds of messages, voicemails, and missed calls. 

He never answered. 

Draco was never a fast runner. He did P.E. in high school and sprinted 50 meters on the field whenever he needed to burn off some steam, but he never enjoyed running. 

Running to the hospital made him hate it more than he thought humanly possible. 

Each time his feet struck the concrete sent a shockwave up his knee, pins and needles pinching his nerves like no other injury he’d endured before. It was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over his own feet yet. He didn’t care, not one bit. He needed to get to her right now and if that meant suffering shin splints then so be it. 

When he finally turned his phone back on, it didn’t take him more than two seconds to read the first message before he was sprinting out of his apartment. 

_59 missed calls_

_22 new voicemails_

_65 unread messages_

_**Hermione’s in the hospital** _

Every footstep after that was synchronous with each ring of his phone; a new text message, another phone call, a bunch of voicemails that no one ever listened to on a regular basis other than when they really had nothing else to do. 

Draco can safely say that his lungs have never burned, ached, or pulsed more in his entire life than right now. His vision was blurry and he could hardly see straight, but he managed to make out the faint outline of Dean's lean frame. He would recognize him anywhere—it turns out people remember the first fistfight much better than they give each other credit for. However, this time, it was Thomas doing the swinging and Draco being the receiving end.

Nonetheless, the last thing he expected was a swift hook the moment he opened those hospital doors.

“Dean!” Fred and the others rushed to hold him back, nurses and surrounding staff calling security at lightning speed. 

“It’s fine!” Draco held his hand up towards the staff and pinched his nose. Leaning forward, he felt blood trickle down his knuckles and into his mouth. The faint metallic tang took him back to the night he and Dean almost killed each other at Hermione’s apartment. 

The doctors looked at each other, silently debating whether or not they should have them kicked out. After a few moments of reading the air, they understood the nature of the situation and let it pass, just this once. 

“Where is she.” Draco’s question came out more like a callous statement. 

Harry’s hand came up to touch Draco’s shoulder but he smacked it away as if he’d just been burned by a hot stove. 

“Where the fuck is Granger, Thomas,” Draco growled, facing him head-on with a blood-streaked face and all. 

Dean didn’t say a word. He simply stared at the boy he used to call his best mate and waited. Waited for another question, an answer—hell, even a punch or a kick would suffice if it meant getting a reaction from Draco. A full minute passed in utter total silence and the others sat quietly in the surrounding chairs, monitoring the two ticking time bombs just in case things escalated quickly. 

Ginny tried to calm him down. “She’s in the OR. We’re still waiting for an update.” 

“Glad you made it,” Dean's voice cracked, practically spitting at him. “What took you so long, Draco?” 

“Dean fucking Thomas,” Draco muttered through clenched teeth. “Where. Is. She.” 

He began laughing, a livid flame burning behind his warm eyes. His chuckles were soon replaced by shallow breaths, gasping and coughing, until he broke down into sobs. 

“She was going to see you,” Dean trembled, rage and sadness wrapping their tendrils around every fiber of his being. “—you unbelievable fucking bastard.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits and his eyebrows furrowed. “What?” 

Dean was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall and head buried between his knees. Lifting his head up, he kept his eyes focused on the floor tiles. If he looked at Draco, he’d be more than tempted to deck him again. This time, he wouldn’t stop after a single blow.

“She came over to my place and told me that she couldn’t be with me,” he reaffirmed. “Because she loved you.” 

Draco’s world came crashing down. Hermione loved him? She loved him back? 

“She said she needed to go see you,” he continued. “I told her to hurry up and go before you fell asleep and kept her locked out. I told her to go and she actually listened to me.” All eyes were on George now, anticipating what would come out of his mouth next.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and covered his mouth, holding back his whimpers. “She ran outside before I could even say a proper goodbye and th—”

Fred broke. “I was on my way upstairs when I heard the car all the way down the street... ” His voice hitched on the truth, only now comprehending the gravity of their new reality. 

“Lady blew a .19,” Thomas sneered. Flatmates be damned. “Said her drink was spiked but we all knew she was just fucking wasted and wanted to take her new ride out for a spin.” 

The bustling background noise of the hospital was now mute. Deep down inside Draco’s heart, something snapped. Anatomically or psychologically, he didn’t know, but it was even more painful than anything he had experienced in his entire life. His fingertips began buzzing like static ran through them and the sounds around him grew fuzzy as if he’d been plunged twelve meters deep into the darkest trench of the ocean.

Draco’s hand flew up to his chest, a tearing sound he swears he could hear echoing like a cannon ripple. His friends stumbled to their feet and screamed to any nearby medical personnel for help. Dean was shell shocked, frozen like a deer in headlights. He’d just seen Hermione’s lifeless body get rolled into the hospital wing. Even though he refused to admit it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost another friend today. 

Draco’s ears were ringing like when he had the worst migraine back in senior year. Finals season, go figure. He snuck into Hermione’s room and stayed there all night. Sure, she managed to get a little bit of studying done. 

“Fucking do something!” Ron screamed. “Help him!” 

Draco kicked and thrashed at anyone who tried touching him, moaning and crying out until his throat went raw. An excruciating pain spread throughout his body. It felt like his muscles were peeling apart from his bones and his bare body was being dunked in battery acid. 

Then came the pit. 

It started with a numb cramp. Then, a hole opened up from deep inside his chest, swallowing all of his air and making it impossible to breathe. It was unbearable. He was going to pass out from the pain; he wanted to. Anything was better than this. God, everything fucking hurt and he just wanted to go to sleep. 

The last thing he saw was a hoard of nurses running into the room across his and the sound of defibrillator paddles charging. With all the blood painted across her face, he could barely make out the scar on her right temple. It was from sophomore year. The clumsy girl fell down the bleachers after a night of bad decisions and way too many drinks. If Draco hadn’t caught her, she probably would have snapped her leg. 

He doesn’t want to remember what happened after that.

* * *

Another week passed before she decided to leave the house. It had been exactly 18 months since Hermione had moved here and yet, the city still felt foreign. Sure, she had a cozy studio decorated well enough to remind her of home, a job she loved with all her heart, kind neighbors who treated her like a local, and not to mention a tightly-knit circle of friends whom she treasured more than anything. 

So why on Earth did she still feel so undeniably out of place? 

Pulling back the blinds, the sunlight streamed in like rays of heavenly light. It wasn’t supposed to be sunny today but she wasn’t one to complain. After weeks of staying cooped up in her apartment and using “the holidays” as an excuse, Mione’s pasty complexion deemed itself worthy of some vitamin D and fresh outside air. She wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it, but something was bugging her, willing her, to go outside. 

Yeah, she definitely needed some fresh air if some weird gut feeling was what finally convinced her to go outside. 

Throwing on a thick wooly coat she snagged from the thrift shop during her first month here, she slammed the door shut with as much finesse and gusto as Houdini himself. Cheap apartments didn’t come without their share of cons, but Miss Granger liked to think that her bank account thanked her each month for the frugality. 

Skipping down the street right after the snow melted was the perfect equation for disaster. That didn’t stop it from being fun. She was in a good mood today. Everyone had their good days as much as they had their bad ones, didn’t they? 

The warm smell of freshly baked bread wafted in the air. It flooded her nostrils with the most delightful, comforting, and delectable scent she’d ever had the pleasure of smelling. It also reminded her how hungry she was and that it was a bad decision to skip breakfast. Hermione muttered a quick apology to her wallet before venturing off to find the nearest café. At least it was cheaper than eating at a restaurant. 

A blatant lie. It was all in the name of a perfect coffee and she happened to know exactly where to find it. 

The jingling of the door chime was something she’d grown accustomed to over the course of 10 months. This was the only café that actually poured bottomless cups of black coffee and only charged for every two refills on lattes, cappuccinos, and other milk drinks. 

“The usual I presume?” her favorite host offered, already getting a cup ready. 

Hermione smiled wide. “You know me oh so well, Fred.” 

Flashing his signature grin and a cheeky wink, he got to work steaming the milk for a double-shot flat white. “Where’s Ron?” she asked aloud. “Isn’t this his lunch shift?” 

Fred chortled. “It always blows my mind that you seem to know our schedules better than we do.” She rolled her eyes at his backhanded compliment; flattering because he appreciated how attentive and close she was with everyone who worked here, but mildly insulting because he was implying that the young woman spent so much time here and didn’t get out enough.

Finishing up cleaning the last row of plates, Fred slung the dishtowel over his shoulder. He beckoned the lone customer to come closer and she leaned over the counter. “Bachelor Weasley has a date,” he whispered in her ear. 

“I don’t see those hands moving!” She knew that voice anywhere. “Don’t forget you’re taking out the trash later if Harry catches you!”

“Just keeping me company, mum!” he mocked his sister. Sipping the top layer of foam from the red ceramic cup, Hermione sighed in pure bliss. 

Sticking his head out from the kitchen, the other goofball everyone loved formed his lips into a giddy smile. “It’s been a few days princess!” George winked. “How long did you sleep for this time?” 

“Hardy har har,” she narrowed her eyes, scowling at his never-ending tirade of Snow White jokes. “At least I still get my beauty sleep.” 

Taking mock offense to this, he didn’t get a chance to react before Ginny snuck up from behind him smacked the back of his head with a wooden spoon. A deafening crack sounded that made Hermione wince just from watching. “Stop flirting with customers and finish table eight’s order.” 

“We don’t open for another hour!” he wailed. 

Hermione suppressed the snort that almost escaped by taking another sip of coffee. “Missed you too, Ginny,” she greeted. Ginny smiled heartily at her heartily and waved before picking up the phone. Running a business while having your best friends and family work alongside you wasn’t exactly the best recipe for success, so to speak. 

“So this ‘date’ Ronald has,” she hummed. “Is she pretty?” 

A pair of hands from behind snaked their way around her waist, tickling her into a fit of forced laughter. “It’s not good to butt your nose into other people’s business!”

Granger was too busy choking on her giggles, she couldn’t talk. After an incredibly long six seconds, Dean pulled away and greeted her with a warm and innocent grin. His nose was crinkled the slightest bit and his eyes were inviting half-moons. 

“That’s the least you deserve for leaving me with these idiots for the past three days...” he immediately broke into a pout. 

At this, Fred swung the dishrag off his shoulder and smacked it straight across Dean’s face. His reaction was straight out of a cartoon. If she hadn’t finished her drink beforehand, flat white would have spewed out of Hermione’s nostrils all over the counter. 

“Watch your mouth kid,” Fred warned in a melodramatic voice, and even he was holding back a series of cackles.

“See what I mean!” Dean whined, tugging her sleeve and pouting. “They’re so mean to me and steal all the tips!” 

From the kitchen, George tsked to scold the younger one and waved his spatula around for extra emphasis. “We don’t steal them, you’re just too busy chatting up all the customers to pay attention to the little details.” 

Dean’s mouth contorted into a pucker and he started mouthing their words to mock them. Hermione forced herself to stay quiet and pressed her lips together to force back any reaction. 

The ringing of the door caused them to turn around. It was Harry and his—friend?

"Mione!” His voice was telltale surprised and ecstatic to see her face after a couple of days of absence. “Gred, Forge, Dean, guess who I brought?” 

“Well well, and I thought we had seen our share of ghosts for the day,” George gawked, ignoring the pet names Potter coined for them in elementary school. 

Fred wore a look of awe. “You must be a vampire or something, you’re still as young and as pale as ever.” 

“So I did get taller!” Dean blurted out.

The man standing beside him currently had his back turned towards Hermione, focusing instead on the antique decor that adorned the entryway, walls, tables, chairs, and ceilings of the establishment. He wore a simple outfit, sporting a well-tailored suit and matching dress shoes. Polished. Very polished. 

When he finally turned around, Mione’s heart did a triple somersault and landed in her throat. Did she know him? It wasn’t as simple as the fact that he looked familiar—he felt familiar. Everything from his face, gaze, aura, energy, and even his scent engulfed her in a cloak of solace. She knew him from somewhere, yet she had no idea who he was or where he was from. 

The moment he turned around, Draco was immediately drawn to her. Everything else flew out the window and she was the sole focus of his mind. A forcefield of curiosity and yearning overrode all of his thoughts and he was consumed by one wish and one wish only: he needed to know her name. He needed to know who she was. 

With wide eyes and an invisible string pulling the two towards one another like magnets, she didn’t notice that he had made his way right in front until Harry coughed up a lung. 

Potter broke the silence in the air. “Mione, this is Draco. Draco, this is Hermione.”

He was still drinking in her features; the tiniest details of her uneven dimples, delicate lips, baby hairs, and down to the way her eyes sparkled and twinkled like the brightest stars in the sky. 

Likewise, she was sketching out every single detail of his face; the almond-shaped creases of his eyes, pouty lips, flawless skin, and of course, the half a second he let a mischievous smile slipped past his lips. 

“Hi,” she finally murmured, quieter than the sound of a cricket chirping in the dead of night. A small grin crept along the edges of her lips as he parted his lips to speak. 

Draco couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his features. “Hi.” 

“Psst—” Fred craned his body over the serving window to whisper in his brother’s ear. “What’s up with them?” 

George, Fred, and Dean shrugged, looking back and forth at each other, then at Hermione and Draco. 

“It’s really nice to meet you.” So this is what it was like...

He held out his hand, the distance between the two of them staying the same yet growing shorter each second. 

Taking his outstretched hand into hers, her fingers closed around his, admiring how they seemed to fit perfectly like a lock and key. It was as if a spark had ignited between their bodies, embers flying like fireworks underneath the pitch-black darkness of night. How were his hands so warm? 

Any remaining drop of apprehension Hermione ever had was now gone, replaced by a bright, glowing light that outshined everything else. 

“The pleasure is mine.” Finally.

The air hung heavy with nerves as the pair stood absolutely silent, fingers still entwined with one another. George coughed from the serving counter. When did he get there—

“You gonna catch up with us or leave us hanging again, Malfoy?” Harry teased, a mischievous smirk painting his features. Letting go of his hand, the feeling of cold air grazing her palm was instantaneous. Dean slung his arm over her shoulder jokingly. “What have you been up to, Draco?” He was so desperate for attention that he was willing to piss his best friend off for it. Hermione tried to refrain from giggling. 

“What am I, cold turkey?” George complained from the back. Crossing her arms to shelter her hands, she noticed how icy they’d become in the span of a few seconds. Draco climbed over the counter in the blink of an eye and whacked the head chef behind his head. 

“Show some respect you goofball, you haven’t seen me in months,” the blonde scolded. Chuckling, his gums were the slightest bit visible as he smiled wide, another wave of familiarity swallowing Hermione’s senses. 

She stepped outside five minutes after the gang started chatting and catching up with each other, awkwardness overcoming her ability to carry on a normal conversation. Draco’s presence made her—flustered, to say the least. Ideally and in any other social situation, she would have stayed and introduced herself to him further, but it felt like she was already intruding on a private conversation.

After an hour of pacing back and forth and pretending to be busy with a phone call, she went back inside and told the guys that she had to get back home. “I forgot I had some extra papers I still haven’t sorted through,” Hermione lied through a forced-out dry laugh. “Don’t want my boss to kill me.” 

Everyone waved goodbye and Draco looked like he’d been slapped across the face. “It was nice meeting you,” he managed to pry out. “See you around.” 

Flashing him a tight-lipped grin, she scooped up her things from the counter, bid them farewell, and hurried out the door. The moment she stepped out the door, it was as if something tugged the hems of her coat. Did she forget her phone? Bag? Journal? Wallet?

Patting herself down thoroughly, she shook it off as just another misled gut feeling. She hadn’t visited the café in a while and started the day off on an odd foot in the first place. 

Hermione was a few meters from the café when someone called out. Shouted was more like it. 

“Hermione!” Their footsteps drew closer, each dull thunk on the pavement instead reverberating like a crisp knock on the hardwood. 

Turning around, she looked down at the figure hunched over directly in front of her and gasped. Draco was panting heavily, shoulders rising and falling as he supported himself by resting his hands on his knees. Patting his back out of habit like she’d done for her high school teammates after track meets, he reached out and gripped her forearm for support. 

Biting back a chuckle, she had to ask. “Are you alright?” Had he really sprinted that far just to catch up to her?

Clearing his throat, he stood up straight and tried catching his breath. “Never been better, thanks.” He was still holding onto her arm. “I was going to ask if you—if you uh, God this is weird—,” he stuttered, eyes falling to the concrete pavement beneath his feet.

Hermione tried her hardest not to interrupt. While he kept tripping over his words like an adorable nervous wreck, she relaxed her arm so that his hand slid into hers, slotting together perfectly like two matching puzzle pieces. Feeling the warmth radiate from his touch, his expression eased immediately. He squeezed her hand. When she returned the favor with a shy grin, it gave him the courage to speak. 

“Would you be free for dinner sometime, Hermione?” he finally asked, name flowing off of his tongue like the most beautiful song she’d ever heard. Draco’s eyes glimmered with anticipation and hope.

Looking deeper into his entrancing gaze, she didn’t have to think twice. “I would love to, Draco.” His heart exploded in his chest when she said his name, a trapped butterfly escaping from its cage with a vivid flurry of colors and radiating light. 

Love at first sight always seemed like nothing short of a fairytale, but Hermione Granger had a feeling that this came pretty damn close to it. 

We do not remember our past, nor are we better off predicting our future. 

All we have is the present moment and ourselves, and that is more than enough. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments, feedback, reviews, and a mix of all of the above are very much appreciated ^^
> 
> FIXED summary, I apologize for the confusion. I made the mistake of using 2nd person cue words instead of 3rd and am still getting used to writing in 3rd POV


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